The man I was married to for forty years, my former husband, my daughters’ father died yesterday. I crossed that bridge a long time ago, so now my only concern is for our daughters who are making lovely, meaningful, thoughtful plans to cross it in the coming days.  

One of those daughters posted this picture.  I think it’s one of the nicest ones I’ve ever seen.

He was an Air Force  pilot when I met him.  I think I have mentioned here a few times that I was always a sucker for a man in uniform. Geeze!  I even went out with the postman a few times.

Then he had a long career as a commercial pilot. He loved flying. Playing golf. And those daughters.

Since I got the call that he had died ( I hate the word “passed.”) there has been a worm in my ear that won’t go away. Here’s a bit of it:

I believe I can fly
I believe I can touch the sky
I think about it every night and day
Spread my wings and fly away
I believe I can soar
I see me running through that open door
I believe I can fly
I believe I can fly
I believe I can fly .